


Now, Fall Off To Sleep

by callmearenegade



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Tumblr: ImaginexHobbit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 16:58:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7582366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmearenegade/pseuds/callmearenegade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the Imagine “ Imagine Thranduil’s reaction to you having fell asleep on his throne wearing his robe” on  ImagineXHobbit</p><p>pure fluff</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now, Fall Off To Sleep

The moon shone through the few skylights, emitting its’ light through the Mirkwood halls. The lanterns that lit the realm had been turned down, leaving the realm dark and calm as it rested. Though night had fallen, the work had not ceased in the lightest. The royal corridors and chambers where alight with movement and energy . None of the royals or guards showed any sign of fatigue as they continued to work.  
The queen had finally finished her day, all of her work completed despite it no longer being day. She slumped her shoulders slightly as she walked, her hands moving to rub her stiff neck as she continued her pace. Her body compressed as the fatigue and exhaustion of her long day hit her. Her back hurt, her neck ached, her eyes burned slightly but her long day of meetings and paperwork had finally been completed. Now, all she desired to do was to go to sleep in her lush bed with her husband by her side.

She continued her tired walk to the throne room, where king Thranduil was known to be resting after his long day before completely retiring for the night. She approached the heavy wooden doors with little grace or stealth as the wooden sole of her boots clomped across the floor due to legs to heavy with exhaustion to hold any grace. Her long dress brushed against her legs irritatingly with every step. The braids in her light hair pulled at her scalp in the most annoying way that almost made her want to scream. As she moved, her hands went to the back of her head to untie the leather strap holding her hair in place. She released them before throwing them haphazardly in the corridor, no longing finding it in her to care about their existence. She pulled softly at the silver hair, releasing the braids that wrapped around the side of her head until the hair fell in loose waves down her back. A small sigh of relief and happiness escaped her mouth when all the annoying braids were gone and her hair was removed from its confines.   
The throne room doors were in full view and the guards were alerted to her presence as she approached- though, she knew they could hear her coming from a mile away with her feet doing their best elephant impression. 

“ My queen.” The brunet guard spoke with a small respectful bow .

“ Feren.” The queen greeted respectfully but tiredly as she arrived at the door.

“ The king is not in there, my queen. He was called to an urgent meeting with the council and had to go calm them after the spider attack that transpired yesterday.” Feren explained softly to the queen. He noticed the slight slump and grimace on her face as the words left his mouth and almost smiled. 

“ Any word as to when he will return?” She almost whined - if she wasn’t a queen, she would have- as she knew the answer would not be one she wanted to hear.

“ No, my queen. We have no official word,” Feren spoke as he watched the queen grimace and scowl in her tired state, “ But, due to the hour I’m sure he will return shortly.” Feren tried to help, knowing from his years that - although she was better tempered than Thranduil- she was not very even tempered when tired and was likely to cry when the exhaustion hit a certain level. The queen could hear the implied ‘ because he will lose his patience and storm out of the meeting’ he would have said if she was not the queen. She knew it to be true after spending many meetings with her husband and just about doing the same every time.

“ I shall wait for him inside.” She spoke adamantly with a roll of her stiff neck, the deafening crack that resounded definitely helped her - though it was not necessary. So she stepped a few paces back and waited for the guard to open the door for her - because honestly, she was too tired to wrestle with them, especially in the dark.

“ Of course, My Queen.” both guards spoke before yielding her commands and opening the doors with a muffled whoosh.

After a few steps in, the queen turned toward the guards once more.

“ If the hour chimes and the king has not yet returned, you are free of your duties for the remainder of the shift. I am sure there are places you would rather be than stuck on late night guard duty because of the shift roulette.” The queen allowed, watching the guard opposite Feren smile brightly- Feren looked remotely less annoyed with life, which she would call a victory.

“ Gratitude, My queen.” The pair spoke in sync with one another- and she wondered how much time the two really spent around each other. Despite it, she smiled a kind but tired smile at them before she turned and continued to walk into the room.

The room was deserted, as she had expected. The halls echoed the sound of her voice eerily back to her before it died out. The throne room was as dimly lit as the rest of the halls as the candles and lanterns slowly flickered out with dying light. Whoever was in charge of lighting and relighting them must have not expected the light to be needed this long .

The throne atop the high stairs sat empty, exuding loneliness and cold as it sat all alone. The thrones only companions were a half glass of wine - showing how ‘urgent’ the council thought their meeting to be- and the kings’ orange robe thrown across its arms. The silky material hung dangerously off the edge of the chair, having slipped down from its original resting place as the day progressed. It looked about to suicide off the edge and drop to the cold darkness below. The queen sighed and climbed the stairs to the throne. She had never understood Thranduil’s need for stairs everywhere. Personally, she found them boring and time consuming. More than once - during tipsy conversation - she had found herself on a ramble about slides over stairs for arriving at the lower levels. All the same, she - sober- saw the flaws in her argument but that did not diminish her annoyance with stairs. In her fatigued state, she wished this room had not been built with so many stairs. When, at last, her foot hit the last stair, she reached for the falling fabric and gripped it delicately in her hand.

The fabric of the robe was cold to the touch, showing how long her husband had been parted from it. She pulled the long fabric to her chest and folded it with the care of a mother folding her child's’ blanket. She plucked the few stray blonde hairs and bits of dust from the collar and chest before holding it tightly to her again and resting - not very gracefully- down into the chair.  
She did not fear the wrath of the king for the action - as many other who did such an action would receive. Thranduil often encouraged her to sit in the chair, feel the power and control it makes stir in ones chest. He had even offered to have a throne made for her. but she would never allow such a thing. She did not feel comfortable throwing her new found status about. She was one who preferred to actively hear and solve the problems of her people, while her husband preferred his stationary thinking approach that made it easier to get more work done in a shorter span.When his offer was refused, Thranduil spent the next decades to this point trying to get his wife to sit on his throne when ever he could, loving how regal and at home she looked upon it. As if, she was always destined to be there.So, here she decided to sit and wait for her king to return.

A chill was quick to shoot up the queens spine, causing goosebumps to appear upon her pale skin. The throne room always felt colder than the rest of the kingdom. With the loneliness and darkness of the room, the room felt colder than ever.

The queen unfolded the royal robe of the kings. The thick fabric was cold to her touch but promised warmth against the persistent chill of the throne room. The coat had been designed for the chilly winter months that this kingdom felt more severely - perhaps due to lack of magical elf ring that seemed to help the other to realms- than the rest of the elven kingdoms. Yet, even now, the robe served much use in the saving of heat. She wrapped her husbands long robe around her small body. The robe engulfed her in a sea of fabric, holding her protectively as the owner of it would. Wrapped in the fabric, she she stretched and sought a comfortable position upon the chair. She knew she would be stationed there waiting for a while, and despite the padded seat and back rest, the upright position of the chair- that helped to achieve the regal royal position Thranduil loved- was not the most comfortable for long periods of time. She slouched against the back but her long legs stretched too far and her feet dipped over the top stair. She countered by pulling her legs up and upon the chair with her body, throwing them over the arm of the chair and twisting her body to rest against the other arm. If her husband could see her now, she was not sure whether he would laugh or reprimand her for having her boots on his chair. 

She considered the boots, waving her feet to and fro before her. The boots felt rather uncomfortable after a long day. With more effort than she was willing to expend, she bent forward and unlaced the old laces of the knee high brown boots and collapsed back against the arm of the chair with a groan of annoyance. She now understood Galadriel's love for not wearing shoes. With a huff she toed off the boots and grabbed them before they slipped down to the depths below - she lost a belt, and by she I mean Thranduil, down in the depths below the throne before and she has yet to see it reappear- never to be seen again. With the last bit of her ability to care, she carefully placed the boots beside the throne with the softest of thunks before allowing herself to fully relax in her seat.

She found the room comfortable now, the robe starting to warm and sooth her with its’ thick layers and comforting smell. The throne was comfortable in the position she rested in and the dim lights lulled her eyes closed and shut her brain off after using it all day. It was rather late and even the strongest of elves- she was sure- would fall asleep and before the mighty queen could stop it, the pull of sleep persuaded her into its depths.  
**  
The irritated steps of royal boots could be heard echoing through the halls, that is, if anyone was awake to hear them. If a king stomps through the halls, and no one is around to hear it, does he really make a sound? Thranduil didn’t care or think about the noise he was making. He was too tired - more emotionally and mentally rather physically- to find a care. He was used to the long days that always dragged into long nights, but he was not used to being dragged off in the middle of the night- and his work- for a council meeting. The council had all but literally dragged him away hours ago for a meeting about the spider attack that occurred days ago. He had already taken care of it and no one had been harmed - a few scrapes and bruises did not count. The king humored the old elves and went off to their little meeting to calm and reassure - as he always did. He had only expected such to last an hour, two at the most, before the ancient elves tired and decided to prance off to bed- as the king now wished he could do after word of his wife’s duties for the day being completed, met his ear. Apparently, the king had misjudged their fear and determination to cause him unnecessary annoyance and stress. He had spent hours listening to the stupidest ideas to deal with the problem, ideas having been considered and decided against centuries before. If they were not old members of his father council, he would have replaced them centuries ago. The council members were not with the times of the worlds and none held the battle experience to truly give them the knowledge needed to make decisions. After hours and much frustration later, he had managed to talk them all down and they had all scattered to their homes for the night. 

The sun had long since gone to bed itself, giving way to night. The lights in the royal halls - and most of the rest of Mirkwood- had long since gone out and Thranduil wanted nothing more than to rest. He had entertained the thought of carrying himself to his chambers and falling into the bed in a way that would cause the trees in his forest to be jealous, but his annoyance was too awake and the sun was get to rise. The new day was set to begin much too soon for his liking. Instead, the king took a candle from on of the few maids still awake and on duty - he may have to raise their wage- and the closest bottle of red wine he could find before walking himself back to his throne. 

The dark corridor seemed unending,the length of it seeming only to increase the kings annoyance level. Each step caused it to grow higher and higher. so much so, that the king himself would have passed the throne room door if his feet were not so used to the paces it took to arrive there. The lack of guards at his door - though not necessary in the slightest- ignited the flame of his annoyance slightly more as he cursed the “ incompetent fools” under his breath as he pulled the doors open with less ease than normal.He held the wine bottle tightly in his hand and couldn’t wait to open it up and drown himself in it. It would make him easier to deal with - yes, he was well aware many found him “ difficult”- with the lack of sleep he was experiencing. He needed his sleep after council meetings, they always took more energy from him than necessary, but with the hour, any sleep would just add to the irritability. 

Thranduil made sure he walked upon the center of the path to his throne - his legs feeling slightly wobbly despite the lack of wine in his system- to avoid falling from the path. He had heard the complaints about the lack of hand railing since Legolas was conceived. He understood it in moments like this, when his boots did not feel as firmly planted upon their path. He was relived when the stairs that lead to his throne met his feet. He could go up stairs blackout drunk with no difficulty - and he has. With his mind no longer preoccupied with making precise steps, he could focus on other things. He remembered leaving a half full wine glass beside his throne- perfect for his wine! He left his favorite orange robe half tossed over the side of his chair and hoped it had not fallen over to the depths below- he threw a belt of his wifes’ over it before and it has yet to be recovered. His eyes peered up in the hope of spotting the fabric. He did see it, but he saw something else in its’ company. His feet moved slightly faster around the bend to view his throne- he really did not desire to yell at someone for sitting on it tonight, he really did not. He was ready to rampage on anyone - no matter how drunk- who was on his throne, but instead broke a smile when he saw who it was. 

His wife sat curled in a ball upon the throne, his orange robe wrapped around her like the best blanket in the entire forest. Her long hair was draped across the arm in a wild web, looking like the most beautiful nest he had ever seen. Her face was half covered by the robe, only closed eyes and thin brows were in view over the orange canvas. Her face remained calm and still, lacking all the stress that was normally held in furrowed brow. The queens face lacked the tension that normally left her jaw clenched.

Thranduil, despite his annoyance, couldn’t help but smile down at the snoozing figure. His heart warmed at the sight of his sleeping wife, her mind and body in a world of calm and peace she could not visit during the day. He felt a strong pang of guilt and sadness at the sight. He was the reason her world was so chaotic. He was the reason her world was different shadows of darkness blocking her light. He should have never made intentions toward someone so bright and benevolent. Not when his world was often so dark and malevolent. Yet, she loved him and spread her light through his dark forest. He felt bad, for blocking the light a flower such as her needed and he hated seeing her wilt. 

Thranduil stood upon the top step and watched her breath for a while. He let the calm rhythm fill his ears, the sound dulling the annoyance that had been so prevalent before. With a sigh, he gave in to the calm and tranquility. The king set the bottle down next to the throne, no longer feeling the need for it, before turning back to his sleeping wife.   
She was no longer blissfully asleep when he turned to her, her eyes slightly open she peering at him drowsily.

“ How did you meeting go?” she asked as she sat up and stretched her back.

Thranduil sighed loudly and she took it as an answer with an agreeing nod.

“ You should head off to bed.” He suggested as he gently took her hand and slumped against the side of the throne she currently sat in. She held it lightly in hers as she stood on wobbly, still sleeping legs. He quickly collapsed in his chair when she rose. 

“ Are you not joining me?” She questioned, disappointment heavy.

“ The sun will rise soon, and another day of duties will begin. By the time i retired to sleep, my morning call would be arriving.” The king spoke with slight bitterness and strong fatigue.

“ You would go without sleep again, Nîn meleth?” It had been days, perhaps a week even, since her husband had properly rested. Even for an elf like him, it surely could not be healthy.

“ This is nothing when compared to my time in battle, My dear.” He assured as strongly as he could with a yawn. She, of course, did not fall for his words. She knew his patience would flat line and falter tomorrow when he was fatigues, his judgement would lapse, all if he did not get some rest. 

The queen pursed her lips and look at her husband with judging eyes. He sat up taller in his chair in an attempt to challenge her.

“ Move to your right.” She commanded with a royal voice. Thranduil sat in shock for a moment till a motion of her hand drew his attention back and he slid to the right half of his throne.   
She was a tiny elleth - barely human woman size- but, all the same, the throne was too small for them both to sit. Though it was not dignified or regal, she sat upon the arm of the chair, resting her bare feet upon the seat below her with her knees facing Thranduils’ body. He continued to look at her with question as she brought a hand up to stoke through his hair.

“ Rest your head in my lap.” She encouraged sweetly. The kings questioning look continued before he leaned and rested his tired head upon her soft lap. A wave of warmth and peace washed over him as she adoringly ran her fingers through the soft platinum hair. He had seen her do this to get Legolas asleep once and she often did this in their own chamber when his eyes were busy reading a document of some sort. 

“ Close your eyes.: She continued to encourage in a whisper.

“ I already told you, My dear,” He tried to argue.

“Close you eyes!” She insisted a little harsher. “ I will wake you in a few hours. She assured softly as she ran her fingers soothingly down his forearms.

“ What about you?” He whispered as he drifted slightly and allowed himself to close his eyes.

“ I got my nap today. It is now your turn to rest. Even the great and powerful king needs to rest.” She cooed like a mother to a newborn as she continued to stroke through his hair and down his arms.

“ The sun will shortly be up.” He wrestled with the thought one more time. 

The queen lightly chuckled as the king felt heavier on her lap and he drifted even more.

“ I will awaken you. Now, rest yourself.” She demanded in a tone that gave him no more room to argue, even if he had the energy and was coherent enough, too. 

“ As you command, my queen.” He gave one last smirk as his eyes remained closed and his words slurred. The soft caresses of loving hands weakened what was left of his mind and he fell into the blissful realm of peace and slumber till his peace in his actual realm awoke him once again.


End file.
